KAAGI STORIES

CHLOE JO S. ENALISAN

Submitted to the Department of Humanities

College of Humanities and Social Sciences

University of the Philippines Mindanao

For the Degree of

Bachelor of Arts in English

Major in Creative Writing

Approved by:

FARAH AIMEE S. VIRADOR

Thesis Adviser

OCTOBER 2023
 Enalisan 1

Table of Contents

Warmed Wounded 3

A Cycle 13

Plot Twist 21

Not on Me 29

Caught in a Hollow 36
 Enalisan 2

Warmed Wounded

I was first beaten by my father when I was around five years old. I

could barely remember if it was only me and him that day. The sun was at its highest

and I had not eaten yet because there were no plates left, so I decided to wash at least

one. I was standing on top of a wooden stool, trying my best to reach the basin and

individually wash the dishes I would use, with soap and water from the gallon I could

not even carry properly. We had no sink, just a long wooden table attached to the wall,

where the basin was, and a medium-sized dish rack. I was already eating at the table

when my father arrived and asked me where my mother was. He always had that loud

and sharp voice when talking, and would even brag about it to his friends, that his

strong voice had been an asset to his work and position as a Sergeant of the 3rd

Infantry Battalion. He was angry when I told him that I did not know. I did not realize

that he had grabbed the basin in the kitchen, which was full of water, some used

utensils and leftover food then threw them at me. He took the basin and slapped me

with it multiple times. I still remember feeling cold, running away from that house

while wiping off the crumbs on my clothes. He was always drunk, but this time he

was not. And I was glad we had no gate so I could run away wherever when things

were uncontrollable. Blaming my mother and siblings for not being there kept on

crossing my mind. However, just like them, I also did not want to stay in that house,

nor would I want to see all that had and was about to happen in that house.

My father would always yell at Mother, making sure everyone would hear of

how he would call her a whore, how everything was messed up, that he owns

everything as he was the “King of the House,” and that all of us were worthless and

useless without him. He would search for everyone that he could fight with, while
 Enalisan 3

constantly mumbling that he sacrificed everything for us then blamed us for his

misfortunes. He would topple different objects in the house, and even though this

behavior of his was ordinary, I would still flinch and panic. What I would do when I

heard some loud banging was to hide under the bed in my brother’s room, which was

vacant most of the time, or run to our neighbor’s house and wait for my mother there.

I didn't even remember sleeping at our own house when my mother was still there. I

remember being hungry all the time when I was a kid, feeling the sharp blades

pushing against my stomach while waiting for someone to pick me up from other

people’s houses. I felt like even though we had a house of our own, I would still feel

lost, that I had nowhere to go.

Our house was big, perfect for a big family, but it did not seem like it, it was

empty and spacious. The outside once looked like a forest as the large Aratilis tree

had been infested with vines that had hanging roots. The longer the roots, the pinker it

would get to the bottom and almost brown to the top, but the darker the color, the

thicker and stronger it gets. The tree and the vine would give a shade, a beautiful

shadow from morning to noon, making the passing wind cold. I liked the vines as they

looked magical for their pink roots, yet my father decided to cut the tree, afraid that

snakes would start living in it though we hadn't even seen one. After that, our house

looked deserted, the soil was too dry, and no plants had thrived in it. Inside the house

was a long empty wooden table, a wooden cabinet, and a long chair at the sala. There

were four rooms, and each had wooden beds, only one had a cushion on it, while the

others had some cartons and torn blankets as bedsheets. The bed with cushions was

the biggest and most comfortable, but it was in my father’s room, and we were

forbidden inside. I remember entering my father’s room one time. He had a lot of

pants hanging by the back door, and one of his military uniforms was hanging on the
 Enalisan 4

wall. The uniform looked so stiff, yet some parts were covered with dust, making the

color look dull. Even though he was always in his room and had all the time to at least

shake the dust away, it would only get dirtier each day. It was so foolish of me to open

his cabinet and take a one-peso coin under the folded clothes without thinking he

would notice. During that time, a single coin could give me a variety of choices of

what candy and chips I could buy, unlike today, when the price has doubled, and the

quantity lessened.

I was cleaning outside when my father called my name. He was far, but I

could see in his hand a long vintage belt, his voice was loud while demanding me to

come fast. He showed me the clothes and scolded me for leaving them crumpled, and

uneven. I could not forget the corner in his room where he would usually beat me

until my legs had turned red, but I was still glad he had not noticed his missing coin as

I had already bought a candy-coated peanut with it, which cost 25 cents that time, so I

got four pieces. Most of the time, he would use his long, vintage belt, a branch of

some tree, or his hands to discipline me. That was when I thought that I needed to be

strong because if I was too small, thin, or weak I would not have any chance to fight

or dodge him.

My parents had a complicated relationship, sometimes they were fine, and the

next minute they were not. It was very confusing, but I never asked what they were

doing. I would just be there, observing. I even saw them making love when I went

home early because no one fetched me. I was calling for my mother’s name outside

the house, but no one was answering. I was too little, so I managed to enter by the

window as the doors were locked. I stood on top of a stool and carefully took each

jalousie until the space was enough for my body to fit in. When I entered my mother’s

room, my parents were there. It was disgusting seeing my father’s butt while standing
 Enalisan 5

by the cabinet and my mother looking at him, laughing. I still could not believe how

they did not notice me with all that noise from the glass window, the sound of the

door opening, that they continued their deed.

Most of the time, both resort to violence. There was a time when my mother

was talking to my father while proving a point, her fingers pointing at him, and my

father got angry and slapped her multiple times. He did not like being pointed at, as it

was to him, disrespectful but to me, it was even more disrespectful hurting your wife

in front of other people. I would flinch at every sharp sound, but my mother managed

to hit him multiple times, and I was glad. She would then grab me, and we would

sleep together, at an abandoned house near ours. The house had a metal door and

metal grills on the windows. There were no lights, and the silence was deafening. It

was like staring at nothingness, just darkness. I remember hoping for some light to

appear, but instead of some yellow or white, I could see some red shadow or spot that

was coming from the back of my eye after squinting it multiple times. But I liked it

here, in the dark where no one was shouting at anyone when everything could just be

pitch black instead of having to wake up and see every struggle each day. I hoped that

this would last, that we could just sleep well in silence.

But the silence would soon fade away when a loud banging on the metal door

woke us up. It was my father, shouting at my mother to get out, calling her nasty

names—whore, stupid, idiot. My mother would then whisper to me, telling me not to

worry, that he would stop eventually, and then the voice would be gone. I could not

sleep at all, so I waited for the sun to come up. Only then did I see my mother’s face

closely. There was a visible wound on her forehead. Her face had small bumps and

was also a little red. I never thought that she had been suffering for long, longer than I

have witnessed. I wished I hugged my mother tighter that day when I was praying that
 Enalisan 6

everything would be fine someday, that my hug could somehow warm her up, to make

her feel that I would always be here. That she did not need to prove herself to a man

like my father, that instead of staying at our house, we could live in this abandoned

place instead. Because here, it was more peaceful and safer, even though the rainwater

would keep on leaking from the roof and there was only one pillow and blanket my

mother and I would share, still it felt warm.

Though my father was a retired member of the Philippine Armed Forces and

was known for his hard work and bravery in the field, I disagree with people telling

me how lucky we were to have such a father. He had not done everything for us, nor

did he sacrifice everything for us. Maybe he did it all, but only for himself.

It was 2008 when an incident had altered almost everything in the house. My

father had been struck by a tricycle on the way home. He was drunk. He lost lots of

blood which almost cost him his life. He was admitted to St. Elizabeth Hospital, a

private one as it was the only hospital near Polomolok, that had the equipment needed

for his recovery. I went to the hospital just once and saw that his head was covered

with bandages, it even looked like a helmet. When my mother could not bring me

anymore as she was too busy taking care of everything, she left me and my other

sister at my grandmother’s house and the old woman would feed us hotdogs which

tasted a little bit sour yet still creamy.

After the incident, my father stopped drinking and smoking for months, yet

later continued occasionally. At first, he was not talking much to us, and I did not

want to talk to him too, but I would catch him looking at us in whatever we did. I

know that he was in critical condition at that time and was suffering, but honestly, I

thanked God for the incident as it seemed like a blessing in disguise. Maybe it was the

only way to change him, I wished that would be enough.

 Enalisan 7

My eldest sister, Twing, decided to move in with us so she could take care of

our father, me, and my other sister. She was 16 years old when she went to my

mother’s sister in Cotabato City to study because our parents could not support her

anymore, while I was almost a year old. My sister up to the present had been blaming

our parents for what had happened to our family, that they were both neglectful. When

she would arrive home from school, there would be no meal left for her, as all were

fed to our father’s friends who would drink with him until morning. My mother would

send my sister her salary from abroad which she would budget for our monthly

expenses. She was the one planning and doing everything. Later, my sister became the

person who was trusted by almost everyone in handling most of the decision-making,

division of responsibilities, and maintaining order in our household.

Our father had become more attentive to us. He started caring and stopped

yelling and banging things. He began his garden and took care of it every day.

Sometimes, he would cook our meals and do the laundry. Our father would fetch us

from school, carrying both mine and my sister Tal’s bag on his shoulder while telling

us stories on the way.

The picture of a family eating together at a table and asking about each other's

day while sipping hot noodles was one of my dreams when I was younger. The

noodles advertised on TV were the food we would always buy as it was cheaper than

sardines. But instead of eight members of the family eating including my mother and

father, there would be only four people at the table. We were a big family—made

from no family planning and mistakes as my mother and father would call it. It would

hurt now to be called a mistake, but it did not hurt me that much when I was a kid. I

was naïve. The four people missing from the table were my mother who decided to

work abroad when I was eight, my eldest brother who was also alcoholic and was
 Enalisan 8

always with his friends, my second brother who had been adopted by my

grandmother, and the third brother who already had a family at a young age. It was

only me, my father, and my two sisters at the table, sharing a five-peso noodle stuffed

with malunggay leaves.

It was not hard for me to trust my father again. I even cried when he went to

his hometown in Bicol when his mother, who he said looked like me, had died. There

were 11 of them and he was the eldest. He said that he should come as most of his

siblings were gone while some could not make it. I was crying for nights, worried that

he might die too. Maybe it was the effect of watching too many horror and suspense

movies. We did not know what he was doing there, but the news about him drinking

and smoking multiple times a week came to us. I was nine when my father had his

first stroke, and he was still in Bicol at that time. He arrived home when he was

already recovering, and I still could not forget when I was guiding him in using his

hand grip. In barely two months, my father could already move his fingers well and

my eldest sister then continued her studies at Notre Dame of DaDiangas University in

Gensan, a city near ours. She decided to stay there, and she would sometimes take me

and my other sister, Tal, for the weekends.

My father’s first stroke was followed by two more because he could not stop

his addiction to alcohol and smoking. When the pandemic began, my father and I had

less communication as I was still having a hard time adjusting to the online class and

was more comfortable being alone. It was during this time that he would accuse me of

talking to some man on the phone, and when he would get drunk, he would keep on

banging on my door, calling me nasty names — whore, stupid, idiot. This time, I was

persuaded he had not changed at all. The look in his eyes would reflect that same rage

when he would beat me when I was a kid. For days, I would not get out no matter
 Enalisan 9

how hungry I was. I would keep my door closed and would only come out when I

would hear him snoring at night. From that day on, I would look at him with anger in

my eyes, and I would try my best to avoid getting seen by him. That was why when

he had his third stroke, I was not in the house. I was with my cousin when my sister,

Tal, alerted me of the state of my father. When I arrived, I saw my father in a very

unresponsive state. He could not move or speak. He had a very high temperature and

he would blink slower than normal. I immediately went to nearby hospitals asking if

they could attend to my father and when they heard about his high fever, they said

they could not accept any patient experiencing COVID-19 symptoms. I was furious at

that time because I waited for too long, only to be rejected. I even cried while talking

to the staff because she was determined not to let us in. At the same time, I was afraid

that my father would die as he was already hardly breathing. Fortunately, that

afternoon, he was accepted to a private hospital, and they assured us that he was not

infected with the virus and that the fever was caused by his swollen legs due to

arthritis which then led to a stroke. That time, I looked at my father and thought that

he would survive this just like he had in the past. But it was painful to watch him like

this, disabled literally, unable to move nor talk about what he wanted.

The doctor already warned us of how dangerous the second and third stroke

was, especially since my father was already 66 years old. As we were financially

struggling and he would not stop his vices, he could not continue his medications,

thus the stroke kept coming back. I took care of him in the hospital and at the house,

from feeding him to cleaning him every day for almost two months. I could not focus

on my studies at that time as I had no time. I could not even sleep properly. I almost

cried in front of him, asking for his cooperation as I was still attending classes and he

kept on asking me for something I could not understand. I saw how difficult it was for
 Enalisan 10

my father to lay in bed all day. Sores had started forming on his back and butt and

cleaning it every day was painful enough. He could not be fed on the mouth as he

could not chew or swallow food, therefore a nasogastric tube was inserted through

him. I knew how painful that tube was as when the first attempt failed, the tube was

filled with blood up to the very end. It took almost three attempts before my father

had the tube properly inserted into him, for the tube to enter the right hole. I got so

angry at that time that I even wanted to punch each of the nurses as it seemed like

they were using my father as a practice subject when the tube must be inserted only

once and done by the doctor himself. I could not sleep that night; it must be very

painful having something solid inserted down my throat a couple of times. Just days

after that, he had a seizure, his body temperature had turned so high that the doctor

told us to accept the possibility that he might not survive. His body was not young

anymore and it was slowly giving up. It was at that moment that I cried so much for

what my father had gone through and thought that it would be better for him to die so

his suffering would end. So, there would be no more painful stressful days for him, so

he could rest peacefully, to be pain-free. But that night was not it yet. He was not

giving up.

When my father was transferred to our house, he still could not talk, and I

remembered the last time we had a conversation was when we were fighting. I

decided to take a break from my studies at that time, as I was still the only one who

was responsible for nursing my father. Everyone else feared getting infected with the

virus as they thought it had come home with us. Though I was the one taking care of

my father, I still feel guilty, and would sometimes blame myself for what had

happened to him. The fight between us, and my avoidance may be one of the reasons

why he had the stroke – because of too much thinking, of too much stress. Not only
 Enalisan 11

because of their constant argument with my eldest brother, not only because of the

unsolved issue between him and my mother.

Father died just a month after being transferred to the house. He was not able

to talk to each of us, nor was he able to ask for forgiveness from everyone he had

caused pain. Yet we were able to talk to him, me and my three brothers, and two

sisters, and that was enough. Though he had done terrible things to us, we still

managed to tell him what he needed to hear. Almost everyone had taken their turn to

talk to him privately, wishing for him to continue the fight just like how he had fought

the other life-threatening experiences he had. But this time was the last, his body had

given up. He was not given another chance at all, maybe that second stroke was his

last chance for he could still talk at that time. The third might be a sign for him to start

listening to others without having to talk back or defend himself. The time for him to

listen and understand, to give chance to others to tell their sides.

Though he had not asked for forgiveness when he was still able to, I had

already given it to him. A gift for him and myself, to recover and be set free from the

past, and for him to finally rest in peace. The forgiveness that we would never hear,

the changes we wished to see much earlier, but could not were the things pushing us

to move forward and keep on living.

 Enalisan 12

A Cycle

I was on the bus about to go home to Polomolok, South Cotabato when I

noticed the clouds getting dark. I just wished to arrive safely, as rains could cause

landslides, and we would pass by roads on mountainsides. I held my bag in my lap

and helped an old man sit properly next to me, on the priority seats. Though I know it

was wrong for me to sit there as I was not pregnant, disabled, or elderly, it was the

only way for me not to vomit during the long ride. As there was less motion in the

front compared to the back, it would be stable and less bumpy. The old man was

accompanied by his son, who was carrying all their bags and I could not help but

smile at them.

The rain usually calms me but, this time I felt fear. I had a love-hate

relationship with the rain, because of the memories it would remind me of myself, of

my friends, and my family. Still, these memories just remained there, buried

underneath, waiting to be recovered, to be remembered, when given a chance.

I once wondered why rain would make a person reminisce and realized that

maybe it was because the smell and sound of the rain improved the energy flow

within us, giving the mind the ability to wander and remember better. It was just like

how a poem turned into a song could make us remember the lyrics more, as sound

could linger more in our memories than words ever will.

Rain also had therapeutic effects. To me, the smell and the sound were created

to remind me to play with it and bond with it. The sound becomes louder than my

thoughts, makes me forget about anything and just listen to its loud noise, though it

could be irritating sometimes when I am talking to someone. And when I would be

running and chasing its little stream falling from the roof, a speck of excitement
 Enalisan 13

would fill me, as if I was young again - happy and silly. Kids running by the road and

gliding through the canals, laughing hysterically at dirty faces, are memories I will

always treasure.

Before, I always thought that it rained because of people washing their clothes.

The rain would pour in the afternoon and everyone should be attentive before the

rainwater washes the clothes again. I convinced myself of this not until I answered my

teacher who asked us, why does it rain? with this and she responded to me with a

laugh. There was a process, and it's called the water cycle with four stages:

evaporation, condensation, precipitation, and collection. The humiliating laughs of

everyone made me memorize this process.

Evaporation

During this stage, the liquid is heated until it turns into a gas state, or what we

refer to as water vapor. When the water is exposed to the sun’s raging heat, it cannot

be stopped from evaporating, unless it is kept in a shaded or covered area. I could

barely remember what happened during my teenage years, but I had known that my

father was cruel, strong, and violent. He was known for his vicious behavior not only

on the battlefield but also in disciplining his children. When my father caught my

eldest brother smoking a cigarette in front of the school, he beat him, put him inside a

sack, and hung him in the tree in front of our house. Most of our neighbors had seen it

happen and my eldest sister told me that my father had once stuck cigarettes in my

brother's mouth until he could not take anymore and lit it.

If there is no shade, the water could easily evaporate. If it is not covered or

sealed, it turns into gas - a water vapor.

 Enalisan 14

My brother imitated my father’s behavior. Instead of avoiding his presence, he

fought back and yelled back. The shade was there for a while, then it would again be

gone, leaving the liquid to be fully absorbed.

When my brother was beaten by my father, my mother was there watching.

Instead of disciplining my brother, or stopping our father from his violent way of

disciplining his children, she persuaded him to not force the children to continue with

their studies. That was why two of my brothers barely finished high school. Our

parents did not recognize their responsibilities. They were filling the house with

alcohol bottles, cigarette butts, and loud noises, leaving no space for a safe and

comfortable home.

Now, the gas slowly danced with the heat and air, rising towards the

atmosphere.

Condensation

This process is the opposite of the latter wherein the gas - water vapor

- is being turned into liquid. The liquid from being heated on the earth’s surface goes

with the air and forms clouds due to the water vapor rising and cooling in the

atmosphere. From experiencing incidents that almost cost him his life, a road incident,

and a stroke, my father somehow started to change his ways. Even though I was the

last of the six kids, I still experienced the neglect of both our parents. How much more

did my siblings? My father would even brag how they would feed us coffee instead of

milk, or sometimes sugar mixed with hot water as the elders said that coffee would

make us stronger. And that was why we were thin, frail, and small when we were

kids. I was even nicknamed “liit” for being small, and even though some would find it

cute, I hated it. Kids need a lot of nutrients that can help them grow healthy and

normal. Though it is still possible for my mother to breastfeed us even when she has
 Enalisan 15

inverted nipples, the milk that her breast produced was just not enough, not enough to

feed all six of us.

To some people, looking at the blue sky and clouds could bring them peace

and comfort not knowing that those fluffy white things were heavy and if it would

solidify, we would all be buried in ice. Clouds are huge, as they have collected various

amounts of water vapor all around the world and it is amazing how the rising air in

the atmosphere would keep it afloat, preventing it from falling in one piece, like a

stream. Maybe that is the reason why my father would rather close his room and read

his books than argue with my drunken brother. To keep things peaceful between

them, albeit only on the surface.

Still, I wished that he would always stay in this particular place. How I wished

for him to forget about his pride. But father was not like that. As much as we wanted

to control the situation, he would not let anyone tamper with his dignity. Most

especially when it was his child, his blood, in his own house. The child he had fed

with coffee to become as strong as him, or even stronger. And there would come a day

when both of them would become clouds that had turned dark as there were too many

droplets in the air, giving them an opaque color. They would no longer be able to

contain it they would fall, and they would fall heavily.

Precipitation

When the cloud cannot hold the condensed water vapor much longer as it has

reached its maximum capacity, it begins to fall in the form of rain, hail, sleet, or snow.

As the clouds are a collection of droplets of water from all over the world, the rain

does not fall in one piece like a stream as the wind and air contribute to splitting these

droplets in the air while they fall to the ground. With the help of the earth’s gravity
 Enalisan 16

and the mass of the droplets, the strength of the fall could be determined, whether the

rain, for instance, would be light or heavy.

But this time, it was not light nor subtle, it was noisy, strong, harsh - as if long

and big needles wanted to pierce through the metal roof of the bus. Noticing how fast

the bus was traveling, I could not help but think that maybe we would fall on the cliff

and that this would be my last day alive. I felt my heart, kept my eyes open and just

looked outside, making sure that we were meters away from the edge. I looked around

but it was only me who was bothered. The old man was lying on his back, mouth

open, sleeping, while his son was scrolling through the phone, his other hand gripping

their bags. If only I was not fed with coffee then I would not be this nervous.

I covered my ears and hugged myself when the thunder started rumbling, I

hated it. The sound reminds me of when my eldest brother repeatedly pierced our

metal door with an ax while yelling for us to open the door. It was 2013. He had

already destroyed two front doors of our house in the past and every time, he still

would be the one to fix it when he would get sober. Most of the time, the source of his

anger was the time when father had left us for a long time, without considering that I

(sixth child) and my other sister (fifth child) were still babies. My brothers had even

stopped school and were forced to sell cellophane and stolen vegetables in the market

just to provide us milk, and also feed themselves. I could not remember it, but I kept

on hearing my brothers reiterating what had happened in the past, telling us that it was

them taking care of us as our mother that time was at Gensan constantly looking for

work and could only go home once or thrice a month. My father came back, after

almost two months.

I immediately got up when I heard footsteps coming from my father's room

and heard him yelling back. As he had already been admitted for a stroke, I was afraid
 Enalisan 17

that he would be back in the hospital again. Father took the first strike as my brother

would usually fight him with words. My voice was almost gone from screaming,

asking for help, while we were all outside getting soaked in the rain. My toes could

feel the wet texture of the ground, my knees were shaking but looking at them getting

dirt on their mouths, I felt lucky.

There they were on the ground, punching each other, cursing each name. And

I know screaming tabang would not help, but I was hoping that someone could hear

me even though the rain was louder. I tried stopping them, but I was pushed into the

tree which had injured my feet. One of my toenails got almost ripped off, but I only

felt it after the fight. After many minutes, my male cousins arrived and stopped them.

The drifting of clouds helps distribute the water geographically through rain.

It is the air pressure that keeps the clouds moving to different locations. From that

fight on, both would not keep their peace, instead, they would proceed to the third

stage, letting themselves fall heavily on each other. There would be heavy rainfall in

our house, any time of the day, or week.

Collection

After the heavy rain, the water either takes part in the water cycle or is

stored/collected in places like streams, lakes, and ocean which takes up almost 96%

of the earth’s water. Though each of us had a reason to turn up like our father, or

mother, some valued their inner peace more - to go with the flow and just let things be

rather than fight with it. It was sad and burdensome as my brother had not changed

until now, even though his only enemy in the house was already gone and many

things had already changed. I could not solely blame him for his present self as he

was too young to understand what he had to go through back then, though I still

wanted to blame him for becoming like our father who had mistreated him. Putting
 Enalisan 18

myself in his shoes, I had now understood that though mistakes can be forgiven, they

cannot be easily forgotten. Though it would seem easy for me to forgive something

and move on, and tell him that, to him, it was never easy. My brother had already

passed 30, had no job, and was constantly drinking and smoking.

The four-hour trip had already passed, and I was now in Polomolok, my

hometown. It was no longer raining here, but I could still feel the coldness. I had not

noticed the old man and his son as I was too busy with locating my luggage. If they

had been gone already, they might have been holding each other. How I wish I had

that kind of memory in my family.

I was now at our gate and noticed smoke coming from the trees. That smoke

would rise to the top too, and its heat could form into water droplets. My brother was

cleaning our backyard when he saw me and told me that he was surprised that I was

coming home, then took some of my bags. My sisters were there outside, laughing at

how stupid I was with my crop top, revealing some of my belly fat, which my mother

had praised me for having a healthy and sexy body. We were now all laughing, them

sitting on the wooden sofa, while I stood by the portrait of my dead father, who was

also smiling.

I once questioned my mother why she would not stop caring though some of

her kids are already disrespecting her. But now I know. It was this, the reason why my

mother had not given up on us, on my eldest brother. It was this moment that held her

hopes so high, knowing that we would all be together, laughing even just for a

moment. Even if we were no longer complete, there was still someone trying, trying

to at least change the memories with the best.

Not every water on the oceans goes with the flow, some would still go through

the process of changing whether they like it or not. Each of us had been in this cycle,
 Enalisan 19

though their sufferings were not shared and fought with. Even though I would not

give a fuck anymore about my life, it's true that I too wanted what she wanted. No

matter how comfortable we are with the waves, going with the flow, we still crave

something more. To have the special people in our lives to be with us, to be at peace,

to be like the waves, unbothered by how the wind pushes it, and still appears

beautifully.

I looked at my family, who had a smile on their faces while each would share

some things about their lives. We would savor the moment when there was no rain,

collecting memories that could help in filling the empty areas of family bonds, that

could. But I could not always stay there, especially when the rain would come again,

we all could not stay unless the rain would be a part of the waves. Dancing with the

pressure of everything while maintaining its form, not losing the momentum of each

stroke, and trying, to reach a higher or longer distance. Together, in a row.

If only

If only we could be like the waves.

If only change could happen in a second.

If only changing everything for the better was easy.

If only all those bad memories never existed,

We would all be like the waves.

But we could not be like the waves without the cycle. To be heated, cooled,

filled, and fallen.

 Enalisan 20

Plot Twist

My mother would always remind me that I should not rush into love and that it

should not be the center of my world. She would advise me to stay focused and

practical, emphasizing that someday, I could find a rich and smart man who would

lead me toward the life everyone desires.

But I did not listen. I would let anyone who knocked on my door get in. I

would be there, ready to embrace them, serve them, and make them stay that I never

realized that I was giving all my love away – to just anyone. I fell in love with a

basketball player at 18, an athletic boy who had shown me that first kisses deserved a

proper place and time. Wait for all the vehicles and people to pass through that dark

alley, and then he stole a kiss on my lips. I loved a mama’s boy at 20 who made me

cook for him, for a man, for the first time. I had learned not to be afraid of boiling oil.

I loved an appealing man at 23 who took me on romantic dates and gave me flowers

and chocolates. Yet, all of them had also shown me that there would always be a

reason to leave - it might have to be me or them.

It was love at first sight. My father would always say whenever we would ask

him how he had fallen in love with my mother. But that love he was talking about was

a wrong thing. It was inappropriate for a 32-year-old man to fall in love with a

17-year-old girl. And she never liked it either. So when my mother decided to go

abroad, she left with ease, and carried her luggage with her slender body, while her

hair swayed like Tinkerbell's. She left us to work as a domestic helper in Syria in

2008. That year, almost everyone in the country considered working abroad, mostly

women, and thousands migrated. It was not only because of poverty but of love for

their children, for the family they had left. My grandmother believed it would be our
 Enalisan 21

ticket to a better life and that my mother would send us a lot of money after a month.

In that first month, my mother sent us money, which somehow eased our hunger. My

favorite time was every Christmas when she would send money for us to buy new

clothes and school supplies. Now she had gained body fat, looked healthier and her

hair was the same length as her waist.

But my mother had never talked to my father before he died, and he had

asked for her forgiveness once which she never accepted. She returned to her old

habits - drinking and smoking. She felt suffocated, as she was left with all the

responsibilities when father died. Eating by herself every morning when all of us were

still sound asleep, she would sometimes complain about it to him, at his funeral

poster. The poster with father’s straight face was situated in the front of our house and

every time, she would complain about how father greeted her with that face, every

time she would come home. She hated coming home.

Mother was sold by her mother to my father for a piece of land, the land where

my mother’s side and we were living. It was the land given to her by her relatives here

in Polomolok, and because grandmother wanted to stay with my mother, father had to

find a way. She was forced to marry in exchange for land, a table of food, and a

promised education for her sister. Mother could only do it once. She had loved by

choice once – when she was still 15, she had her “First Love.” This guy was always

by her side back then, and he would always bring her fruits he collected from the

neighborhood. Their relationship was stopped by my grandmother when she was

turning 18 as my father, who was a high-ranked military official, had asked for my

mother’s hand. My mother had no choice at that time. She was the second child of the

six of them and she was forced to marry my father when she turned 18. It was a
 Enalisan 22

shotgun wedding, as my mom would say to me. She was pregnant at that time with

my eldest sister, which was then followed by all five of us.

Out of all the boys I have loved, I can confidently say that Carl, my first

boyfriend, was my first love—my first experience in everything. The garlic chicken

he used to cook, not just for me but also for my friends, was the best I had ever tasted;

it was his specialty. So when I unblocked him just this week and saw him with his

current girlfriend, I felt happy for him. He deserved someone who would appreciate

his efforts more, someone who would love him proudly and loudly. Nonetheless, I'll

never forget how he played the victim during our breakup, how he ignored my

messages when I was the one begging him to give our relationship another try.

It was never easy to move on at that time as he had been the first man to ever

treat me right, but he had hurt me too. It was so painful that I had written him too

many messages which he never read, not until the day that he realized that he wanted

me to come back again. It was almost Christmas when we decided to meet, hoping for

a closure or a comeback. He was crying in front of me, but I had felt nothing, but

embarrassment – sitting together with a boy who was crying nonstop. That was when

I realized that I moved on. That his tears were not working on me anymore.

When my mother found out that I and my ex-boyfriend, Ivar, for four years

had broken up, she only told me one thing, which I would only respond with a look of

disapproval. It seemed like she was giving me an answer that was too vague to

consider as something I would be happy with or not.

“If kamo, kamo gyud,”

But I would not listen. Instead of waiting for destiny, for the time to reveal it

all, I messaged my ex for the last time, hoping that we could still work things out.

Because I believed that if we both wanted to, we could. But he had different plans.
 Enalisan 23

Later that day, I saw his aunt's post of them having a get-together, and next to him was

the woman I had been jealous of for years. They have a history of being intimate with

each other and then pretending like nothing ever happened. It was during a school

event, and I was one of the performers, so I was backstage crying. When I got home, I

reached for a bottle of cleaning agent because I was too afraid to harm myself with a

knife. I'd rather drink and see what would happen, even though I knew I'd feel every

sharp sensation in my stomach, a twisting of internal organs, and that it would hurt

even more. However, one of my friends stopped me when she went to the kitchen to

get some water. My ex would always tell me I couldn't do it, even though I kept

telling him I could. Every time my attempt was unsuccessful, I felt like a coward for

not proving him wrong.

Four months later, my mother brought home her boyfriend. He was the same

man she had been talking about - her first love. Maybe this was what she had been

referring to when she would tell me to let destiny decide. That was because she and

her long-lost lover had found each other. However, it had only been a year since my

father passed away, which was why everyone in the family opposed their relationship.

Every time, she fought for it, she fought for their love. But, just like her, I also once

had a love that I was willing to fight for. It was the love that I proudly introduced to

my family, even though they were completely against it. He was the man I would

choose over anyone, the man I wanted to marry.

When my siblings constantly criticized my mother for loving at the age of 56,

I supported her. Their love for each other had to be stronger than anything, that even

after 36 years, they would still reunite and continue the love that was forcibly halted. I

supported her not because I was angry at my father or because I was trying to win her
 Enalisan 24

favor. I supported her because I knew how it would have felt to have found the person

who had once been gone.

And because I, too, at that time was in love again with someone I had met

online. He was fun, kept me updated, gave me the attention I had been longing for a

long time, and understood the reasons for my tears. We talked virtually, and after

almost two months, we decided to meet up at a mall. He gave off a 'Tito' vibe,

wearing a black polo and pale pants, finishing the look with a small sling bag. It was

love at first sight. I couldn't stop smiling the entire time until I got home. This must be

the feeling of dating one of your crushes. My mother didn't know about him yet, but

we would meet below that large tree at the Polomolok plaza every Wednesday, and it

became my favorite day of the week.

Then he would bring me flowers - crocheted white tulips - a symbol of purity,

forgiveness, fresh start. I loved it, even though he didn't know what my favorite

flower was yet.

I carried it with me wherever I went, stuffing it inside my bag, hoping it would

bring me good luck and guide me on my journey. He was not only sweet and romantic

but also offered to help me financially, which I forbade him from doing. I still didn't

know how I had found someone like him, as he was the best I could have wished for -

a man of my dreams, loving, intelligent, responsible, hardworking, and incredibly

handsome. This must be the love I had been waiting to discover, the kind of love my

parents had told me about.

So on our next date, I brought him some chocolates and a large, crocheted

sunflower. It wasn't just because it was my favorite, but also because he was like a ray

of sunshine in my life, my source of happiness after that destructive heartbreak. He

was too shy to hold it, as it was his first time receiving flowers, and he told me he
 Enalisan 25

didn't deserve it because he was a man, but I knew he did, and I wished he could

accept it.

“If kamo, kamo gyud,”

The phrase kept repeating in my head when I saw his chats, flirting with

another girl. I couldn't move my hand as it was shaking, and my sweat was turning

cold while reading his chats about how he wanted to meet up with the girl and get to

know her more. Every time I would be betrayed, it felt like my heart had been

dropped to the floor, trampled, and abandoned.

Maybe that's what the tulips were for, to forgive him and all the men who had

hurt me. I gladly gave forgiveness, even though I had never received a proper

apology. Now I knew what love truly was, in the hardest way - through countless

nights of crying and blaming myself. Love meant texting the person you missed, even

if they were the ones who hurt you. It meant accepting each flaw, knowing that you

would never be enough for the wrong person, that they would always find someone

else and treat them the same way they did to you. And still, I would forgive and beg

for the person to stay because I was done judging people for their mistakes.

So when my mother told me that my eldest sister was not my father’s but of

her first boyfriend, I was shocked but I was not angry. She only loved, and my sister

had become a part of it. Of a definition of what true love is - when my father took care

of my sister, and sent her to school even though he knew the truth - of why my mother

stayed with the man who showed her the bitterness of life up to his death. Despite the

suffering, each of us would still find ways to show that we care. But still, I believed in

a love that would not need to hurt, a love that would never make my heart drop, a love

that would feel right, and a love that would make me love myself more.
 Enalisan 26

If only I had listened to what my parents had said, and if only they had also

heeded their advice. If only they had known that practicality wouldn't always solve

everything, that money wouldn't last after five or ten years of marriage. Then maybe I

wouldn't have had to seek it from other people. Maybe I wouldn't have sought it too

early. Perhaps I would have realized the need to be complete on my own first, and I

wouldn't have had to rely on others for the love, protection, and warmth I deserved.

The time might have been right when I was ready to appreciate kindness and give it

back. It would have been the right time when I no longer had to seek others to fulfill

my desires, and when I was prepared for commitment instead of forcing myself to

love someone to forget. Then, maybe, if I were ready, love would come to me

unexpectedly. If that love appeared right in front of me, I would recognize it and do

everything to keep it.

For now, I just want to go with the flow, to let the plot of my own life reveal

itself, instead of forcing it, distorting it, or twisting it in another direction when it

could have remained just the way it was.

 Enalisan 27

Not on Me

I was in the room when my sister was in excruciating pain, though she

was not at all screaming. Her mouth was stuffed with a piece of cloth. “Kaya

na nimo te, Utong pa.” the nurse would tell her, while she was tapping her

hands on my sister’s knee. “You are going to be ok gang, pag hinga lang,

nakaya gani ni mamang mo na anum iya bata.” The old woman was the same

nurse who helped my mother in giving birth and delivering, my youngest

brother and me. That time, we were born at our grandmother’s house, as

Nanay, the old nurse, was once living in our village in Lumakil, Polomolok.

My mother was not there when my sister gave birth as she was in Saudi that

year. It had been long before the nurse got out of the delivery room and told

my sister’s partner – that it was a successful delivery. When I got in, there was

blood on the blanket that the other nurse immediately changed with a clean

cloth. The baby was there, my nephew, beside my sister, whose face had

changed so much since pregnancy. I was biting my lips and could not smile at

her as I knew that she was still in pain and that giving birth was a really

painful experience. All I did was congratulate her and ask if she was fine,

though it was obvious she was not. She told me later on that they had done her

episiotomy, to cut her skin by her opening, because my nephew had a huge

head.

My period had been late for almost a week now, and the memory of my sister

giving birth would always pop into my head. Just having to visualize how the scissors

were tearing her skin apart, I could not help but squirm. I was afraid of getting cut by

sharp objects, paper cuts, or needles, and thinking about the private area, one of the
 Enalisan 28

most sensitive parts of the body, getting ripped for a baby’s head to fit was extremely

painful, much more so when it was getting stitched.

Two weeks ago, I had been complaining about a headache, and backache, and

constant hunger. I thought that it was because of my upcoming menstruation, but

when I missed my period the next week and noticed small drops of blood on my

underwear, I panicked because it may be spotting. I could not take another day to

overthink it again so I bought three pregnancy tests with me. Trying not to make a

sound, I could see my hands shaking as I slowly tore down each plastic packaging

while leaving one slightly open for the instructions on the back. In my head, I was

talking to God, asking for his forgiveness, that this would be the very last time. I

never wanted to feel the pain of having a child and giving birth.

It was around 8 a.m. when I took it, as my friend advised me that the result

would be accurate on the first pee of the day. Sitting in the toilet would make it

difficult for me to collect the urine, so I did it on the ground instead and peed on a

dipper. I made sure the cassettes were lying evenly on the floor and put two drops

each. I could feel my hands were not as steady while I carefully pinch the round top of

the thin and cheap plastic and I could see the bubbles pushing the liquid out of the

hole. I had already been in this situation in the past, and as always, I would observe

how the drop was formed, it was almost clear and well-rounded. I watched the liquid

pass through to what seemed like cotton on the opening of the kit. I had to wait for at

least three minutes before the device could detect the hCG in the urine. It is a

hormone that can only be produced when a woman is pregnant. If it was present, the

test would be positive—showing two vertical lines, if not, then it was

negative—showing one vertical line.

 Enalisan 29

When I told my ex-boyfriend, Ivar, about it, he did not agree with my

speculations as he had been very sure with his withdrawal technique that he had put

nothing inside me. So I kept my problem to myself as I already knew what people

would say if ever I tell them. It would still be my fault. For days, it seemed like I was

going crazy, and complained about it multiple times to my Ivar, but he would simply

brush it off and tell me that I should not worry about it. I spent the whole night

looking for any traditional way to naturally bring back my menstruation - in ways that

I would not have to spend too much time on. When I saw that drinking too much

Coke or pineapple juice would help, I drank lots of each. Even though it does not

make sense, I tried and maybe with prayers, it would work. The next morning, my

abdomen was hurting, and I had a painful feeling after peeing for almost three days. It

was like my vagina was being ripped open.

I tried another way, unripe papaya. I looked for papaya and forced myself to

eat it, including the seeds of it. Because of its carotene, the fruit may create uterine

contractions, which may help boost female hormones and cause menstruation. I ate it

inside my room, hiding from anyone in the house, afraid that they might notice, get

suspicious, and find out. The seeds tasted horrible, the texture brushed with my

tongue and I could feel the tiny hairs of it, even the sharp edges of the seeds were

rubbing against my gums. I only had myself this time, and I would do everything to

save it, even though I knew that my methods were quack and that prayers were not an

effective solution at all.

I could still remember the look on my father’s face when my sister returned

home, with her partner and their baby who at that time was around seven months old.

Father had not talked to her for weeks, so my sister moved out of the house and only
 Enalisan 30

came back when she had already given birth. I never expected my sister to return

home pregnant after being gone for almost a year, right after her graduation.

The fear of being kicked out of the house and denied by my ex-boyfriend after

the confirmation was stronger than my fear of having a child, and the suffering I had

to endure for years. Just imagining myself getting dried up for taking care of a lot of

kids while my husband was busy drinking and partying, haunted me. Most of all, my

mother might have had a heart attack, if she had known. And the whole neighborhood

would have had the satisfaction of being right with their gossip about me getting

pregnant and not being able to finish my studies, and I do not want that.

“Hindi gid mag uyab-uyab, makaguba lang na sa imo kinabuhi.”

My sister would always tell me to never engage in romantic relationships as it

would be a reason for me to stop my studies, and that I would become miserable, like

her. That it would do me no good. After what happened to my sister, my parents had

become more strict, especially my father. But what they did not know was, I was in a

relationship back then. Going home late was one rule that was constantly battered on

us after news of criminal cases in Polomolok was being broadcasted on TV. I was

concerned too, but Carl was there, and he would always make sure that he could fetch

me every day though it meant that he had to go back and walk by himself. Carl was

my first partner, and unlike any other lovers who were very clingy and sweet towards

one another in public, we were different. As much as possible, we would have at least

a meter of space from each other. He complained about it once, but it was the only

way for us to maintain our relationship, to keep it a secret so my relatives would not

find out and tell my father. When we were alone, we loved cuddling and just talked

about anything—our goals, his cooking, and his mom’s reaction when he told her

about marrying me.

 Enalisan 31

There was one time I arrived home late because we were practicing for a

school event’s performance. Carl fetched me that day, but as always, he would stop by

the waiting shed as I advised, so I could walk from there to the house so it would

seem like I walked home alone. The road was dark and there was only one post with a

light. It was a little far from the waiting shed when I noticed a shadow of a man

standing below it. It was moving its head as if looking at something in the dark,

walking back and forth, its silhouette appearing and disappearing in that area of the

road. I avoided looking at it and still walked forward even though I was already

getting scared. I looked back at Carl, but he was already gone, and no one was

following me, so I held onto my bag and whispered prayers unto myself while

walking near it. When I got closer, I realized it was just my father. He must have seen

us as he looked furious and would not avoid eye contact. He yelled at me nonstop

about the boyfriend he did not know about, saying that I was a shame to our family

and his name.

Every day, the shadow standing by the light would accompany me in a manner

that I never liked. Father would not shut up or even lower his voice when arguing

even though people passing by were already watching us. It felt like all the eyes that

were looking at me were the same as my father’s – cruel, judging – that I would want

to just disappear like a bubble. Every time, I would feel embarrassed and would try to

argue with him to the point we were both yelling at each other. But he would not

listen, so each time, I would shut up and just turn my back on him and walk fast until

I reached our house, trying my best to play deaf. When I would talk back to him, he

would only utter a short phrase and immediately slap me in the face.

“Pareha raka sa imong mama, bigaon!”

 Enalisan 32

Every time I get scolded and beaten by my father, I would not tell it to anyone,

not even to Carl as I never wanted to bother him with my problems. Of how my father

would hurt my mother when she would talk or get near one of his friends whom he

would invite into the house to drink. He would accuse my mother of flirting with

different men and having sex with them.

I thought Carl would be content with our setup, that we would go on like this

until we graduated, not until I saw him waiting for me outside our house. I got scared,

knowing how angry my father would get if he saw him. But then, my father was also

there, they were standing and facing each other. They were having small talks I could

not hear, followed by long and awkward silence in between which had bothered me so

much. But then I felt my heart had stopped beating, and would beat again, much

faster. The boy that I had fallen in love with, had built the courage to talk to my father

about us so we would not have to hide anymore, and he would not have to wait a

kilometer away from our house to fetch me. I looked at my father who was keeping

his straight face as he watched me walk away with my Carl. He was not happy at all.

As we were going farther, I could hear the words he would usually say, and it would

get louder and louder.

“Wala mo’y paadtuan ana.”

When we had our first sex in his room, it felt like every good thing I knew

about him had changed. I did not know what would happen during sex, but I kept

telling him not to do it, that I would get pregnant. But still, he did. It was my first

time. We were both lying in the bed and he was trying to put his fingers in my

underwear. The next thing I knew, he had been pounding himself on me. I could hear

my heartbeat and the pulse beating in my head, thinking what would happen after this.

It was painful, and though he was trying to be gentle, the pain would never go away.
 Enalisan 33

The more he pushed onto me, the more it hurt. And when we would repeat it, I was

not feeling good at all. It was only he who was feeling good. My skin had been

forced, and I could feel how my hymen was torn that day, and the pain had never

disappeared. Each stroke he had to repeat over and over again, of how many times we

did, I was hurting while he was having fun.

And I was scared that I would regret every sex I would have, that the feeling

of pain would never be forgotten, that it would last until I would become a mother. I

was afraid that after having sex, I would get pregnant, left with the kids, to do

everything on my own. That my arm would swell too permanently, just like my mom

due to too much pressure and force of doing laundry for a living, while she was

pregnant. I was scared that I would make a mistake that my mother made that night

when we were forced out of the house by my father.

We were at her friend’s house which she introduced to us as our uncle,

her friend. Outside, there was a garden planted with roses of colors pink and

red. There were weeds everywhere but the roses were blooming and it could be

seen from the wooden windows of the house. Inside there was only one

bedroom and a living room that had only a drawer by the front door. We slept

in the living room, with only the banig separating our bodies from the cold

floor - I was sleeping between my sister and mother. It was around 1-3 in the

morning when I felt something moving beside me, and when I opened my eyes,

I saw my sister looking at me, and my mom. We were too young to understand

and tried our best to laugh silently because of weird noises and constant

movement of my mom’s shoulder and the banig we were lying on. She and the

uncle were having sex beside us. That morning, my father had found us.
 Enalisan 34

But there was no point talking about it to my mother now, as she was best at

denying it. Still, I could not blame her, when the man she had been married to was

only good at beating her.

Three minutes had passed, and lines were slightly appearing. I instantly prayed

to God to give me another chance and that I would be better, just like what I promised

five years ago when I was in the same situation with Carl. I would take three vitamin

C tablets each meal, and later on suffer from hard breathing and nausea for it.

My relief could not be measured when I saw that each cassette had only one

line. I sighed, rested my back, and quietly laughed at myself for stressing and crying

about it for days. It felt like I was given another life once again, that I had been saved

from having a miserable life like ours before it would be too late, that I could still

make everything right again. I would not have to go through that painful experience

of skin tearing until the child’s body could get out.

I stood up and thought of all the things I had not done, that I would do it all

today. But I could not be the only one to be stressed about this, I thought. So I took

one of the pregnancy test kits, took a picture of it, did some editing to make it look

positive, and sent it to Ivar.

He cursed, and I laughed. Did he think I was pregnant? Then he sent me texts.

“Are you sure you have not been touched by anyone when you were drinking

these past few weeks?”

His words broke me, I wanted to punch him in the face - it felt like everything

that I did for our relationship was for nothing. Then we fought for almost a week, as

he had been accusing me of cheating. How could he, when I never liked having sex in

the beginning?
 Enalisan 35

When I told him one time that we should go to El Uma, a botanical garden

with a camping area and pool at Polomolok, he disapproved, jokingly saying that it

would be better to stay at home and make love with me. I knew that he had an

introverted side, but when his friends would fetch him to go to parties and drinking

places, he would be there and make me wait in his place until four in the morning, so

we could sleep together. We would be there, stuck in the four corners of the room with

no windows. It was suffocating, as only the air coming from the electric fan was

circulating in the almost sealed area - the smell was a mixture of chips, cigarettes, or

dried rain. We would have sex almost every day to the point where I could not stand

up anymore, and I even hated peeing. Though ‌I enjoyed it, I would still pity myself,

for I had never connected entirely with him. I wanted more. When I moved to Davao

for college, he would always tell me that he craved the feeling of having sex with me,

and not the food I cooked for him, nor the back massages I would give him before

going to sleep. When I told him I wanted something much deeper than the physicality

could reach, he responded with a huff, saying that I was just jealous of what I was

seeing on social media and that I was becoming a discontented woman. I also felt lost

when he said that he was the eldest and he needed to prioritize his family, that he

already had too much to carry.

What he did not know was we both did not want to disappoint our parents. I

was afraid of becoming a mother, like my mom. My mom was not strong enough to

fight for herself when my father would beat her. Instead of evading father’s slap, she

would keep her face steady and accept it. I stood there watching. I did not understand

it before, but now I do. She was not keeping a steady face; she was just not expecting

that she would get slapped. And that’s why she couldn't dodge. We were the same; we

could never know we were slapped not until the person’s hand had already touched
 Enalisan 36

our face, not until we could feel something hot, and sharp on our face. But still, there

were qualities I admired in her, that would also make me want to become like my

mother. A woman who does not give up, no matter how many times she is constantly

pushed by the forces around her. I want to become my mother who is brave enough to

hurt my father the same as he had hurt her. I want to be like my sister who had taken

care of her son on her own, for years, so as not to rely on someone else.

But I would never get married, or marry the same man as those who had hurt

my mother and my sister. I would not let the young version of me live in that empty,

spacious house again. I would not have kids who would be easily woken up from the

slightest movements at night. I would not have myself remain steady while I am

already being hurt by the one I love.

Not on me that these memories will be repeated.

I was already typing the fifth paragraph to send to my ex-boyfriend, proving

that I was loyal and that I would never be a burden.

But, I was done with all these. I was angry – so I erased all the messages I

typed on my phone and turned it off instead. I took the cassettes on the floor and

wrapped them in a paper bag and plastic to throw away. I was done.
 Enalisan 37

Caught in a Hollow

I did not notice that it was already 2:50 in the morning. I should’ve been

sleeping already before 3 a.m. strikes. Though I was already an adult, I still believed

that demons and ghosts were active by that hour. I was once a fan of horror when I

was a child, but now it felt harder to forget the pale face of a man smiling at me. I

took another tablet from a bottle, hidden below my pillow and immediately

swallowed it. Then I would just lay in there, covering my whole body with a blanket

so no air could touch my skin. Think of good thoughts, just like what Peter Pan would

say. Though I only had a few of them, I still tried.

At the Malu, there we were in a village that was far from the loud noises of

engines. Riding horses and carabaos was common, and people were bathing together

in a cemented tub, filled with flowing water, some were doing their laundry too.

Father was close to the people there as he had bought a large land area that had a

stream, and he was helping with the distribution of the flowing water to the village.

During the night, we would gather outside to help with the dinner, which usually

would be nilupak, pounded cassava mixed with sugar, much better with milk. I would

help pound the cassava after it was slightly crushed, using a large mortar the size of a

bucket and pestle that was as tall as my mother. When it was done, and the sun had

already set, the sky would be so dark that the stars were very visible. Then fireflies

would come out, and together with the other kids, we would try to catch some and

watch them closer, trapping them in our hollowed hands. Though stuck, it would

continue to glow and crash itself on the soft skin, trying to find an opening – towards

freedom.
 Enalisan 38

I began sleeping pills in October of 2020, during the Pandemic, when the

Coronavirus had been spreading wide, killing people. It would target the person’s

respiratory system, resulting in cough, fever, or chills, and the most evident was the

loss of the person’s sense of smell and taste. Everyone had been hiding themselves in

their houses, avoiding contact with different people as the virus had already killed

thousands of people. But not everyone had been in a house they wanted to isolate

themselves from. For years, I had already been stuck in one place, both shaky and

still. In a house that had drama almost every day and that had kept steady – refusing

changes after all the years.

It was during this year when I had felt the loneliest, and angriest, when my

anxiety kicked in. I would cry for being born into a family that could drain the only

happiness in me. I would blame myself for letting it be used by anyone and taken

advantage of by people I trusted. I would cry for the reason of not being good enough

for myself and others, to be accepted by what I am.

My body had also become a part of it. I had become conscious of my waist,

my arms, my face. Staying at home for years and not being allowed to go outside had

an impact on my body that I could not change in months. I was not minding it at first,

I was enjoying the feeling of not having to wake up early and not having to worry

about my looks. That I could just be at my own house, enjoying my own company,

but I was not alone. People were there watching me, my sisters, my father, my

brothers. Pointing out how I had become fatter and fatter as the days went by, of how

I had messed up my decisions in life as if I did not know it myself. But I could not lay

the blame on anyone or anything, so what I would do was look at these people and

pretend that I have not heard anything. But this does not work every time. I would

have a time when I was not able to keep my anger, no matter how much I wanted to.
 Enalisan 39

And so I would isolate myself, never get out, never eat, and drink for days. It had

come to a point where I would no longer get up, brush my teeth, comb my hair. I

would just cry and cut my hair until it leveled with my ears.

Still, words would not mean anything if they had no impact. Words that I

thought I could just easily let go - words coming from the people who I had valued

and mattered. No matter how many times I would try to pretend that I could not see or

hear, I could not stop. Then maybe I had always been the same. If only my eldest

sister had not told me that I should get pregnant I would be miserable. If only they had

not looked at me and told me how disgusting I look for being fat. If only my father

would not judge my clothing every time I go out. Then maybe if I was treated right I

would always stay the same, with them, and not indulge myself with some sedatives.

The taste of the pills that I had taken would last on my tongue for more than a

day, but still, it would not matter to me. This time, I was getting swallowed by my

thoughts. They did not know that I had emotions, emotions that could keep me awake

for days, emotions that could make me survive for days of not eating. I was

swallowed by the responsibilities of becoming the best daughter, to be beautiful, to be

an honor rather than disappointment, and to become a strong woman who could

handle her own emotions. Which all were difficult for me to do.

That was why when we were asked in Literature class what we wanted to be if

we were reincarnated, I said I wanted to be a firefly. A firefly – free and beautiful –

glowing even if it was still a larva. Fireflies were distinguished mainly by the light in

their abdomen, not butts. This was because their body was producing the same

chemical reaction due to Luciferin that enabled their abdomen to produce a glow

which was known as bioluminescence, by the word luminate, meaning glow. I also

did not care if they had a short life span, at least they knew what to do, and where to
 Enalisan 40

go. At least they would suffer for not so long. Being a firefly, I would not have to

worry, for I had served a purpose, a purpose that does not need countless lessons and

suffering. I would not have to overthink about my future, of what I would become, of

what body I have, of what achievements I needed to pass. When I would become a

firefly, I would be there in the village, flying in the dark, letting the winds carry me

while looking at children and playing with them.

It was August when my father was sent to the emergency room. I witnessed

his very last moments. He caught his breath for less than 10 seconds and let out a loud

and fainting yawn, then he just stopped breathing. I saw how fast his skin turned

yellowish, his eyes were open, fixated on the front, and his hollowed mouth seemed

deformed. He died in the same bed I was sleeping in, the same bed I had trouble

sleeping.

As the pandemic continued, countless deaths had been recorded and people

around me were discussing that it could make humans go extinct. When I was in the

hospital with my father, I had lost my sense of smell and taste too, but I had no choice

but to pretend that I was fine and to treat myself before anyone could find out and

admit me. I also had a friend in the hospital, a woman, in her 50s, and she was taking

care of her lover. She talked to me about how their love story went, that she was not

his wife. But because she loved him, she voluntarily took care of him even though she

knew that she could get infected with the virus. She would talk to my father and tell

him to fight his illness so he could spend more time with us, his children. I could not

forget her kindness to me at that time. She also accompanied me in doing my

assignments and reviewing for my quizzes. It was at that moment that I realized I did

not want to die.

 Enalisan 41

Even when we got home, I still could not get out of my mind all the suffering,

but I witnessed that the hospital was a depressing yet hopeful place. Hopeful like the

woman I met, the woman who left a spark of hope in me, to believe that everything

would go well. Many had died around me, and many had survived too. People who

thought they would have died from the virus and survived had served as an inspiration

to everyone who was battling it.

Thinking about it now, my father had lived long, longer than the fireflies. His

two months would complete the life cycle of the fireflies, for this duration they could

already produce their next generation. In his years of living, there had been countless

generations of fireflies that had lived, proving that even in suffering and death, there

was still beauty – a creation of something. How I wished that the suffering in me

would also spark something, somewhere in the world.

And though we could see fireflies as only small creatures that lit up, they had

lots of purposes greater than living and giving life. They were not only creatures that

could give light at night, but they were small creatures that could make me feel

something inside, and make me curious, and excited. To me, it’s the feeling they give

off, a feeling of longing for the past and hope for the future and it’s a purpose that

some things could not just easily give.

But fireflies were not only glowing because of Luciferin. Just like the plankton

in the sea that needed to be disturbed by some force like the wave to light up, fireflies

also needed the air, and the oxygen combined with the Luciferin caused the fireflies to

glow. That was also the reason why fireflies were not glowing constantly, their light

was blinking. And if the dark would come, the light would follow. All of those

unwanted words and treatment they had shown me were forces that would push me to
 Enalisan 42

discover what I was capable of, what would spark in me if that depth had been

touched.

I woke up five hours later, when I dreamt again of the man that kept appearing

in my dreams where he would always do the same thing.

My sister and I were sitting on the wooden bed with no sheets on it. The bed

was outside the house. It was made by my father, he assembled it from scratch. It was

dark, but there were fireflies everywhere. There, we were playing with freshly picked

flowers, when our father came. He was looking at us, smiling. In his hands were the

nilupak we had helped to make. I took some petals and sprinkled them on top of the

nilupak. It was made just yesterday, it had turned cold, yet the flowers made it look

and smell good. When we took our bites, we could taste the perfect blend of the

creamy sweetness of the cassava and the aroma of the flower. Father said something

but I could not remember what he said, then he left with a smile. My sister and I

looked happy while we were eating the nilupak and just looking at the flickering

lights.

Whenever my father would keep on appearing in my dreams, I could hear my

thoughts saying that all of it was not real – only an illusion of what I wanted. But a

part of my head would also tell me that it was, that everything would feel real. But

then I also thought that the dream could also mean another thing, that this had once

become part of my memory of when I was just a small little kid who was not worried

about anything at all, even the night. A kid who was always smiling, happy, and

content with what life she had. Even when what was in front of me had turned cold, I

would not turn away, instead, I would make it better. I was not sure of what or when

this dream would become impactful to me. But I know that father was telling us

something good in those dreams.

 Enalisan 43

But not everything could be good. Sometimes, we would be caught in a

hollow. A hollow that could absorb all the energy, leaving us empty, that instead of

facing reality we would rather escape to the darkness. Like the firefly I caught when I

was young, it did not give up. It crashed itself into my hand and looked for some

space that could fit itself. But it was not only because it tried. It was also because the

light of other fireflies outside had guided it.

When a firefly gets caught in a hollow and is not able to get out, it weakens,

loses its glow, and dies. It was not always beautiful. Life is not always beautiful, but

we all have it in ourselves to keep on illuminating amidst the hollows, like the

fireflies.